


retreating

by spacebubble



Series: detours [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Episode: s04e07 Starship Down, Fantasizing, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Slash, Rare Pairings, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 07:45:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19763701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebubble/pseuds/spacebubble
Summary: Quark visits Karemma prior to the events of "Starship Down." Hanok's not prepared for the feelings Quark's presence brings to mind.





	retreating

**Author's Note:**

> Probably the first of a series, but this felt more like a standalone fic than a chapter 1, so here goes!
> 
> Set sometime before "Starship Down." What do you do when your long-distance business pal finally pays you a visit?

Hanok resists the urge to pace back and forth as he waits with the crowd at the airlock terminal.

He is a government official, and he has been working long enough to know from experience that sometimes ships run late, especially if they're piloted by newcomers to the Karemman homeworld.

(Except this is the first time that anyone from the Alpha Quadrant - the Alpha Quadrant! - is visiting, and Hanok can't help but worry that Quark might have encountered something dangerous on the way over. The Karemman homeworld wasn't very close to the wormhole. Anything could have happened. He is accustomed to dealing with precisely punctual Vorta and sundry other punctual professionals. Usually the only reason someone would have for running late was because an accident or worse had befallen them, and -)

Suddenly Quark appears.

Hanok recognizes him immediately from their viewscreen calls, though it would be hard not to identify him as foreign, or at the very least, frightfully out of place amongst the sea of tall, dark-clothed, almost monochromatic-looking recent arrivals.

In person, Quark's skin is fascinatingly vibrant, and his outfit is even more vibrant.

Having never seen any other Ferengi, Hanok wonders if Quark's outfit is... typical of his people, or typical only for him, or perhaps both. He had always seen hints of Quark's outfits before, from the chest upwards, yet never the coattails, or the elaborate metal clasps, or the closely-tailored fit of the tucks nipped in at the waist.

Very little is left to the imagination. Hanok can easily imagine, for instance, the shape of Quark's compact body underneath those form-fitting brocaded layers.

His face grows warm.

Hanok blinks, then tugs at his collar, opening it up just a fraction before he walks over to greet him.

* * *

He's _much_ shorter than Hanok expected.

"You're... really tall," Quark informs him, craning his neck back to look Hanok in the eyes.

"Thank you," Hanok replies politely. He extends a hand. "May I take your bag?"

Quark knits his browridges slightly, holds his carry-on closer to his chest. "Why?"

"It looks rather heavy." (Especially for someone of Quark's size.)

Quark's face turns an interestingly darker color. "I can manage."

Hanok lets his hand fall back to his side. "Understood." He turns towards the airlock exit. "If you'll follow me."

* * *

He deliberately walks slower so Quark can keep up with him. Rather annoying. Hanok's not accustomed to being around someone so short. Quark barely comes up to his elbow.

"Are you _sure_ you don't want me to carry your luggage for you?" Hanok glances back down at him. "You're clearly overexerting yourself."

"I'm fine." Quark hoists the bag's strap up onto his shoulder again - it keeps slipping off as they walk. "Why is the corridor so _long_?"

"Is it?" Hanok's never noticed the length. "We can take one of the automated walkways, if you prefer."

"There's automated walkways?"

"Yes, one's up ahead. Here." He places a hand on Quark's back and gently steers him towards the walkway, which lights up with a mild pale jade glow.

For a brief moment, Hanok could feel Quark's shoulders tense up. The unexpected motion, so easily sensed underneath his palm, catches him off-guard. He hadn't thought Quark's clothes would be so thin.

* * *

It's dark outside, and snowing.

As the government-issued hovercraft glides through the falling snow, Quark looks outside the window with fascination.

Hanok understands that the climate on Quark's home planet is prone to rain, large quantities of it. Often cold, but not cold enough to snow.

He watches Quark watch the snow breeze past the window, idly noting the angles of Quark's jaw and throat, the hint of bare skin exposed at the neck.

It would be the mere work of a moment to lean over and press his mouth to Quark's throat, to feel Quark's pulse quicken underneath his lips as he bears down upon him -

Hanok sits very still. He presses his lips together into a tight, disciplined line.

* * *

Interacting with Quark in person keeps giving Hanok the sense that Quark isn't what he seems. That Quark is hiding something from him somehow. Some secret omitted from the profusion of details that Quark continues to tell him.

Hanok is used to dealing with people who mean what they say. After being in Quark's company for a few hours, he finds it difficult to believe Quark sincerely means anything he says.

But he has no evidence, nor any reason to not trust Quark's statements regarding the Federation markets.

It's just a feeling, vague and ill-defined, like an itch on the verge of demanding a scratch.

* * *

Other itches demand scratching. Hanok doesn't give in to the demand.

* * *

Watching Quark eat is... distracting.

He finds himself fixated on Quark's mouth as Quark slips a particularly phallic-looking bug in, lips stretching around the girth of it, deftly adjusting for the size...

His thoughts drift to Quark kneeling in front of him - no, kneeling on a bed, leaning over him, sucking him with those accomodating lips, prompting him to thrust into that loud mouth -

Hanok coughs, knees jerking up and hitting the underside of the table. He winces with a quiet groan.

Quark yelps, startled.

It's in a pitch Hanok did not need to hear. Something he could easily imagine hearing in the bedroom.

He exhales noisily.

"Are you ok?" Quark asks, eyes wide.

Hanok nods.

Immediately, Quark relaxes, though he still sounds worried. "You scared me," he admonishes, a real undercurrent of fear making his voice sharp.

"I'm fine. Sorry. Swallowed too quickly." Hanok clears his throat, then takes a long sip of wine.

Quark takes a sip from his own glass of wine, then makes a face.

Hanok smiles. "Not to your liking?"

Quark sets the glass down, pushes it away from him a little. "Now I see why you're so interested in the tulaberry imports."

* * *

After dinner, Hanok sees Quark to his guest lodgings.

The temporary biometric lock gives Quark some trouble, though perhaps it'd be easier if Quark wasn't struggling with the weight of his shoulder bag, too stubborn to ask for help.

Quark keeps returning his unlocking-hand to readjust the bag strap - his fingers keep leaving before the lock can register their presence - so Hanok gently takes Quark's hand in his and holds his fingers in the correct position.

He makes sure not to lean against Quark in any way, shape, or form. He purposely stands off to the side, so that he cannot possibly trap Quark against the door, or push against him and feel how easily Quark's body would fit against his own, compact and tight, held in place.

Quark's hand feels warm and small. Easily held.

They both release an audible breath when the finger impressions register.

A beep and a soft glow emanates underneath Quark's palm, finally activating the doors.

Briefly, Hanok imagines accompanying Quark back every night, gently positioning him each time, Quark never able to operate the lock without his help. It would be more convenient for Quark to stay in his guest room -

The doors swish open.

Hanok immediately lets go of Quark's hand and steps back.

Quark's hand shoots back over to the bag strap to prevent it from slipping off his shoulder. He steps inside the door, then turns around.

"Hanok?"

"Yes?"

The corner of Quark's mouth twitches upwards into a lopsided grin. "Aren't you coming in?"

Hanok frowns, perplexed. "No. Why would I?"

"Oh, no reason." Quark eyes him up and down. "I could make you a nightcap."

"A... nightcap?"

"Do you not have them here?"

"I'm unfamiliar with the term."

Quark grins. "A drink. Alcoholic, preferably."

"Ah." That's right, Quark is a bartender. Hanok acknowledges him with a nod. "Thank you, but I've already had wine at dinner -"

"You call that wine?" Quark wrinkles his nose in a strangely endearing gesture. "Hanok, please."

He can't help but smile. "Yes, Quark, I call that wine."

"I could mix you something better! I'm sure I can."

It's tempting.

The door remains open, proximity sensors noting his presence as Hanok lingers outside Quark's door.

It's very tempting.

He could use it as an excuse to give in, to finally act upon the visions plaguing his mind all day. A catalyst.

But how would it look, for the Minister of Commerce of all of Karemma, to impose himself upon the planet's first ever visitor from the Alpha Quadrant? An esteemed business associate, no less? Before an entire day has barely even passed?

No, he couldn't possibly.

Hanok steps backwards from the door, no longer triggering the proximity sensors.

"Good night, Quark."

The doors slide shut on Quark's reply.

Hanok looks at the shut doors for a moment, then turns around and walks away.

It's better this way. Maintain a formal, professional distance. Avoid complicating matters.

Quark is still a stranger to him. They barely know each other. It's far too soon to begin... fraternizing outside of business hours.

No, this is better. Better and correct.

Hanok steps into the hotel turbolift's elegant interior thinking about the correctness of his decision, and the warmth of Quark's fingers in his now-empty hands, and the agenda for the next day.


End file.
